


Bring You Home

by LibraryMage



Series: Winter Blueberry AU [3]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Gen, Memory Loss, Whumptober, Winter Blueberry AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 10:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryMage/pseuds/LibraryMage
Summary: Eighteen months after Ezra's death, Kanan is attacked by an Imperial assassin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is unrelated to any other existing versions of the winter blueberry AU, so definitely don't take this as canon in anyone else's universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for the Whumptober 2019 prompt "asphyxiation"

Kanan had had a feeling the day would come when he would cross paths with the mysterious Imperial assassin that had been appearing in rebel intelligence reports. He just hadn’t thought it would be so soon. And he hadn’t been expecting someone who looked barely older than Ezra had been when he’d died.

Unlike the weapons the Inquisitors carried, the assassin’s lightsaber had only one blade, but he wielded it with just as much skill as any Inquisitor or Jedi Kanan had ever seen. As the assassin leapt at him, Kanan blocked the red blade with his own, digging his heels in to keep his footing on the slick grass. He looked down at the assassin and his eyes widened slightly. The assassin had moved so quickly that Kanan hadn’t been able to get a good look at his face before, but now he saw them; eyes which were painfully familiar, glaring up at him over the mask that covered the lower half of the boy’s face. They were yellow now, and full of a fierce, burning hatred the likes of which Kanan had never seen before, but still he knew them on sight.

_Ezra_.

Kanan stepped back, out of reach of Ezra’s weapon. He could barely believe what he was seeing. He’d thought Ezra was dead. He’d _felt_ him die. But here he was, standing before Kanan, a red blade in his hand.

Ezra leapt at him again and Kanan raised his blade just in time to block a strike that would have taken his head off. He pushed through the Force, shoving Ezra away from him, giving himself just enough time to draw his blaster. He fired a series of stun blasts, each of which Ezra easily deflected before rushing toward him again. As Kanan moved to defend himself again, he saw Sabine pulling herself off the ground and drawing her own blasters. Kanan shoved Ezra back again, firing another stun blast, intentionally missing and letting it fly past Sabine, hoping she would get his message without him having to say something that would alert Ezra.

Sabine pulled the trigger and Ezra collapsed as a ring of blue light struck his back. The girl rushed to him, slowing down as she reached his side. She moved to put her blasters back in their holsters and froze, staring down at the unconscious boy at her feet.

“Is that –”

“Ezra,” Kanan said. He crouched down and lifted the boy into his arms, making sure his head was resting against his shoulder, where it would be supported.

As they walked back to the _Phantom_, Kanan kept staring down at the boy in his arms. With each step, he felt dread growing in the pit of his stomach as he wondered if this was all a dream, if he would wake up and find himself on the _Ghost_, knowing that Ezra was still gone.

* * *

Ezra remained out cold for the entirety of the short trip back to the _Ghost_. When the shuttle docked with the ship, Kanan carefully lifted Ezra into his arms once again, carrying him into the common room where he found Hera, Zeb, and Chopper all waiting. All wanting to see if what Kanan had commed to tell Hera was the truth.

“Ezra,” Hera said quietly, her eyes widening as she laid eyes on him. Kanan could feel a surge of _guiltfearpaindenialguiltguilt**guilt**_ welling up in her mind as she watched him lay Ezra down in a chair. She’d been the first person he told that Ezra was dead, and she had believed him. She’d had no reason not to.

“He’s been stunned,” Kanan said. “But he’ll be okay.”

As he gripped the kid’s mask, intending to pull it away, his hand froze. A hot flare of anger burst through his chest as he realized that it wasn’t a mask, but a muzzle, holding Ezra’s jaw shut so he couldn’t speak.

He reached behind the kid’s head, feeling for the locking mechanism and pushing with his mind, forcing it open. As it fell away, Kanan set it aside, not wanting it to be within the kid’s line of sight when he came to.

“Come on, kid,” Kanan said, gently patting Ezra’s cheek, trying not to think about the sharp lines in his skin where the muzzle had dug into his face. “Wake up.”

Slowly, those bright yellow eyes fluttered open, going wide immediately. Before Kanan could say another word, Ezra was on him, pinning him to the floor with his hands around his throat.

“Ezra,” Kanan gasped, trying to pry the kid’s hands away. Ezra only tightened his grip, and Kanan could sense him adding to it with the Force, crushing Kanan’s airway. As spots began to appear in Kanan’s vision, there was a crackle of electricity and Ezra released his grip on Kanan’s neck to swing wildly at Chopper, shoving him away. Kanan took advantage of Ezra’s momentary distraction to push the boy off of him and stumble back to his feet.

As Ezra lunged toward Kanan again, Zeb grabbed him, pulling the kid back against his chest and pinning his arms at his sides.

“Settle down, kid,” Zeb said. “It’s just Kanan. You’re alright.”

Ezra struggled in Zeb’s arms, his heel slamming into the side of the Lasat’s knee hard enough to make him wince, but not enough to make him let go.

“Ezra, it’s okay,” Kanan said, taking a step toward the struggling boy. “You’re home now.”

Ezra turned his furious gaze back to Kanan and spat in his face. The whole room went still, save for Ezra’s continued struggles, as they all realized that something was very wrong.

“Ezra –”

“Who is Ezra?”

Kanan fell silent at the sound of his padawan’s voice. It didn’t sound like the boy he remembered at all. His voice was quiet, rough, _broken_. It barely held a trace of the voice Kanan remembered.

“You are,” Kanan said. Ezra stared blankly at him and Kanan felt something clench tightly around his heart. The kid really didn’t remember.

“Your name is Ezra Bridger,” he said. “This ship is called the _Ghost_. It’s your home. We’re your family.”

Ezra stopped struggling, his gaze traveling between the faces of each member of the crew. Zeb seemed to sense the change and loosened his grip on Ezra. As soon as he did, Kanan saw a cold smile flash across the kid’s face. Ezra rammed his elbow into Zeb’s gut, following through with a push through the Force and throwing the Lasat off of him. He reached out through the Force, pulling Kanan’s blaster from its holster. Kanan grabbed the weapon before it could reach Ezra, quickly ejecting the charge pack.

Ezra let out a low growl and lunged at Kanan again. Before Kanan could react, another shot went off and Ezra collapsed once more, narrowly missing striking his head on the table as he fell. Sabine lowered her blaster as she walked over to Ezra’s side. Kanan could sense the painful guilt radiating off of her as she placed her weapon back in her holster and gazed down at her unconscious friend.

“Karabast,” Zeb muttered. “What did they do to him?”

“I don’t know,” Kanan said. “But I’m going to find out.”

“What are we going to do with him now?” Sabine asked. “He’s just going to attack you if he wakes up here again.”

Kanan glanced over at Hera, holding her gaze for a moment. He didn’t expect her to actually tell him what they should do. She may be the captain, but when it came to containing a Force user, he was the closest thing they had to an expert.

“We’ll put him in my cabin for now,” Kanan said. “Lock the door and seal up the vents.”

“We have binders if we need them,” Zeb said, sounding like he hated every word that came out of his mouth.

“No,” Kanan said. Locking Ezra in a room was bad enough. He wasn’t putting his son in cuffs, too.

Hera rushed to the cockpit for her tools while Kanan gathered Ezra back into his arms. Hera met him at the door to his cabin.

“I can't believe this is happening,” she said, keeping her voice low as they entered the room, as if Ezra was just a normal sleeping child and not knocked out by a stun blast.

“Neither can I,” Kanan said. He’d thought maybe it would begin to feel real once he’d brought Ezra home and the others had seen him, but he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that they’d found him. Ezra was alive. _His son_ was alive. Alive and apparently trying to kill him.

As Kanan lay Ezra down on the bed, Hera climbed onto the top bunk and got to work sealing the vent so Ezra couldn’t climb through it. Kanan sat down beside Ezra, gently brushing a lock of his dark hair away from his face. It was shorter now. It must have been cut at some point.

“What happened to you, kid?” he asked, his voice quiet as he gazed down at the unconscious boy.

Ezra lay there, unmoving. If it weren’t for those marks on his face left by the muzzle, he would have looked like any other sleeping kid. He seemed almost peaceful, so different from how he’d been just moments before.

When Hera finished sealing the vent, she climbed down from the top bunk and sat down beside Kanan, her hand gently gripping his. For a moment, they just sat there, both of them watching the slow rise and fall of Ezra’s chest, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Come on,” Hera said. “I need your help rewiring the door.”

Kanan nodded, knowing Hera’s request was more to get him out of the room – to get him out of _danger_ – than anything else. He stood, following her into the corridor. He did what Chopper normally would have done, holding a light for her while she fixed the door so it could be locked from the outside.

“This feels wrong,” Kanan said, his voice still quiet. Hera’s shoulders went tense, and he knew that she felt the same way.

“It’s just for now,” Hera said, thought Kanan got the feeling she was trying to convince herself more than him. “Until we can figure out what’s going on.”

Kanan tightened his grip on the light, saying nothing. They _would_ get to the bottom of this, and whatever the Empire had done to Ezra, Kanan would make sure they didn’t get away with it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for the Whumptober 2019 prompt "stay with me"
> 
> warning for: dehumanization (person referring to themselves as an "it" as a result of conditioning)

Before it was even fully awake, it could sense a presence close by. As it opened its eyes, it saw the Jedi seated on the edge of the bunk it was laying on. It sat bolt upright and immediately froze. The Jedi wouldn’t just leave himself open to attack. This could easily be a trap.

“It’s alright,” the Jedi said. “You’re safe. I promise.”

Its eyes darted toward the door. The Jedi didn’t look away, but seemed to know exactly where it was looking and what it was thinking.

“Ezra,” the Jedi said. “I just want to talk. Just for a minute.”

Ezra. The Jedi had called it that before.

“Who. is. Ezra?” it asked, repeating its earlier question. The Jedi’s answer had made no sense.

“You’re Ezra,” the Jedi said. “Ezra Bridger. My name is Kanan. We’re on the _Ghost_; your home. Please, try to remember.”

It _did_ remember. It remembered being on its knees in front of Master as it was given its new assignment. A Jedi, one of the few still living who had been part of the old Order.

“Kanan Jarrus,” it said. It could sense a spark of hope in the Jedi’s mind. Hope for what, it didn’t know or care. “Jedi. Rebel. Traitor. Next target.”

That spark in the Jedi’s mind died as quickly as it had appeared.

“So you _are_ here to kill me,” the Jedi said.

“Yes,” it said. It would have thought that was obvious.

“Ezra –”

“Don’t call me that!” it shouted. Or rather, tried to shout. Its voice couldn’t get any louder than the quiet half-whisper it already spoke with.

It didn’t even know why it had let the Jedi speak this long. It lashed out through the Force, shoving the Jedi back against the wall and leapt at him, pinning him there with a hand over his throat.

“I don’t need a weapon to kill you,” it said. It stared into the Jedi’s eyes, reaching for his mind. It wanted to watch the life slowly fading away.

Before it knew what was happening, it had been knocked backward onto the floor. It braced itself, but the attack it was expecting didn’t come. Instead, the Jedi was reaching out a hand toward it, a silent offer to…to help it up?

It got to its feet without the Jedi’s help, taking a hesitant step back. Something was going on here that it didn’t understand. Its past targets had resorted to all manner of things when they realized they were about to die. Pleas, crying, attempts to bribe it or threaten it or fight it off, but this was a new tactic it hadn’t been prepared for.

“I won't call you that if you don’t want me to,” the Jedi said, as if nothing else had just happened. “Is there something else you _do_ want to be called?”

It shook its head.

“Do you have a name at all?”

“No,” it said. “I don’t need one.”

It sensed a powerful flare of anger in the Force and realized it was coming from the Jedi. But that couldn’t be right. Master had taught it everything about the Jedi. The Jedi were weak and didn’t allow themselves to feel emotions like anger, knowing they couldn’t handle the power that came from them. And yet it had felt the Jedi’s anger burst through the Force, burning like Master’s lightsaber against its skin.

“Can I ask you something else?” the Jedi asked.

It narrowed its eyes, taking another step back, only to find itself against the wall. What kind of game was the Jedi playing? When it didn’t answer, the Jedi seemed to take that as an invitation to keep talking.

“What happened to your voice?”

“It’s always been like this,” it said, its eyes darting toward the door again. The Jedi stepped to one side, not fully blocking its view of the door, but silently warning it not to try and run.

“No, it hasn’t,” the Jedi said. “Sit down. I want to show you something.”

Slowly, it took a step back toward the bunk and sat down on the edge of it. The Jedi sat down beside it, and it flinched away as the man removed a small device from his pocket. As the man hit a button on the device, a translucent blue image appeared. A holovid. It narrowed its eyes again, watching the two people in the vid.

_“I made you this,” a boy said. He quickly slid a sheet of flimsi across a table to a short-haired girl, then looked away so she wouldn’t see his face, almost like he was embarrassed._

_“It’s…a monster?” the girl asked as she picked up the piece of paper and examined it._

_“It’s a loth-cat,” the boy said._

_“Is it supposed to be abstract?”_

_“I’m learning,” the boy said, rolling his eyes._

_“Clearly.”_

_The boy stuck his tongue out and the girl tore a sheet of flimsi from the blank book open in front of her, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it at the boy._

As the holovid was switched off, it raised its eyes to the Jedi again.

“That boy was you,” the Jedi said. “That’s what your voice used to sound like. That girl’s name is Sabine. She’s your friend.”

“That isn’t me,” it said, shaking its head.

“It _is_,” the Jedi insisted. “I know you don’t remember, but we can help you if –”

“No,” it said. Why was it even wasting its time like this? The Jedi was its target. It should have killed him already, disposed of the rest of the crew if necessary, and returned to Mustafar.

“No,” it muttered. “That isn’t me.”

Its hand twitched toward a weapon that was no longer on its belt. It should have killed the Lasat first; it knows that now. That would have made things so much easier.

“Just finish the mission,” it told itself, its voice dropping to a whisper so quiet it could barely hear itself.

“Ez –” the Jedi stopped himself before he could say that name. “Do you _want_ to go back?”

“I have to,” it said. “I live to serve the Empire.”

The words came out of its mouth like they had a life of their own. It didn’t remember when or how it had been taught to say them, only that they were the words that defined its whole existence. It lived to serve the Empire, its Master, and the other Inquisitors.

“But do you _want_ to?” the Jedi asked.

It hesitated. No one had ever asked it if it _wanted_ something before. Weapons didn’t want anything.

Once again, it found itself wondering what kind of game the Jedi was playing and why it hadn’t killed him yet.

“I know that you don’t believe me,” the Jedi said. “But I can help you if you stay here, with me.”

Something nudged at the back of its mind. Something insistent and powerful. Not the Force. Something else. Something it didn’t know how to name.

“I – I can't,” it said, silently cursing itself. It never _stuttered_, not in front of its targets. It rarely even spoke to them, unless Master wanted it to get information from them first. It shouldn’t be speaking to the Jedi now. It should be attacking. It should be _killing_, like it was born and trained to do.

So why wasn’t it?

_Do it_, it ordered itself. _Do it now._

“Just think about it,” the Jedi said.

It stared up at the man, narrowing its eyes once more. The Inquisitors never told it to _think_, only to obey.

The Jedi moved toward it and it flinched.

_What is the matter with you?_ it asked itself. It had long since learned never to show weakness to one of its targets.

“Keep this,” the Jedi said, holding out the device he had used to show it the holovid. Slowly, still not understanding why, it reached out and took the object from the Jedi’s hand.

As it was still staring down at the device, the Jedi stood and began to walk toward the door. Now was its chance. It could kill the Jedi, finish its mission, return to its Master, just like it should have in the first place.

Before it could act, the Jedi had left the room.

It shifted where it sat on the edge of the bunk again, staring the holodisk in its hand. It turned it on and the vid began to play again. It stopped the vid and stared blankly at the boy and the girl. The Jedi had said it was the boy, and that the girl was its friend.

It wasn’t even sure it knew what a friend was, but it couldn’t shake the feeling that it _had_ known once.


End file.
